


Confessions and Forgiveness

by prettybirdy979



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettybirdy979/pseuds/prettybirdy979
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's two weeks after Sherlock's fall. Mycroft isn't coping. Martin is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions and Forgiveness

"You’re drunk." Not the first words Martin expected to say as he entered Sherlock’s flat but they were by far the most fitting.

"What gave it away? The empty bottles, my appearance or the smell?" Mycroft drawled, taking a long sip of whiskey. Martin grabbed it when it was on the way down and wrestled it from his brother’s hand.

"Mycroft, this is not the time for this!" Martin yelled.

"When is the time for it?" He growled in reply, trying to grab the bottle again. “My little brother is dead and I am the one who gave Moriarty the ability to convince him to jump!"

Martin took a step back, bottle still in hand. “What? You did what?"

Mycroft met Martin’s eyes. “I was Moriarty’s source and he the source for that article. Sherlock over reacted as he always does and now-"

"Now I need your help and you are in no state to give it to me." A sad but familiar voice spoke. Mycroft raised his eyes to look over Martin’s shoulder.

There stood Sherlock, injured from his fall but clearly alive. Mycroft pulled himself to unsteady feet as he rapidly began to sober up. Slowly he made his way across the room, his eyes never leaving Sherlock’s.

He slapped his brother as soon as he was close enough. Sherlock didn’t block it but kept his head still. When Mycroft tried for a second slap, Martin grabbed his hand and stepped between his brothers.

"You knew." Mycroft accused, now noticing all the signs of guilt and fear Martin had that he had missed earlier.

"Yes. He needed someone to help sneak his body out and I was in London." Martin admitted.

"Why didn’t you trust me?" Mycroft asked, his eyes flicking back to Sherlock.

Sherlock just shook his head. “I did. I do. Mycroft, they threatened John." He paused at that and took a deep breath. “I wasn’t willing to do anything to risk him."

"And now?" Mycroft asked. “It’s barely been two weeks, the threat against Dr Watson would still stand."

"I need your help." Sherlock admitted.

"Anything." 

"I need you to find a way to kill John." Mycroft froze and Sherlock  quickly added. “Like me. I want you to help me do for John what was done for me. I need John… I can’t…I need him safe. And he’s not at the moment. Not where he is."

Mycroft nodded. “It will be done." Sherlock sighed in relief. “And Sherlock… I’m sorry."

Sherlock smiled, a genuine smile the likes of which Mycroft hadn’t seen in decades. “For what?"


End file.
